Our Old Friend Regret

So, McNeil emailed me about a "post" from 2013, of course. I was speculating at the time on the syllabic emphasis due to the sitcom title THAT GIRL, as may be examined, McNeil-like, by "clicking" here. You may be sure that McNeil and I emailed back and forth several times on the subject. In the end, or near it, I should say, McNeil inquired whether anyone within the show, excluding the singers of the theme song, ever used the phrase "that girl," and... well, here. I'll quote my reply: "I seem to remember from being a kid (so take it for what it's worth: nothing) that every episode or almost every episode started with a cold open before the credits, where something wacky would happen then someone would say 'Who did it?' or some other leading question, and someone would point and say, 'THAT girl!'" Not taking me at my word (as I, of course, had advised, as seen above), McNeil watched the beginning of season one, episode two, and got back to me with the results, which I quote here for the remarkable poetry of their expression: "Exactly as you said, Pendarvis, exactly!!! By God, it's uncanny the way you maneuver the little twists and turns of memory and come up with the little nuggets, that....you know, you're like a little squirrel digging up an old acorn buried in childhood right next to Coke and cake, then covered over later in life by booze and bacon - and all tamped down nice and hard by our old friend regret."

Pig Head Song

Okay now this weird French governess in this novel is singing "a quaint old Bretagne ballad, about a lady with a pig's head." Uh, here's some of it: "And she would sing like a funeral bell, with a ding-dong tune./ The pigs were afraid, and viewed her aloof;/ And women feared her and stood afar./ She could do without sleep for a year and a day;/ She could sleep like a corpse for a month or more./ No one knew how this lady fed -/ On acorns or on flesh." WHAT!

Earth Squirrel Wins

"Look, I'm busy," you say. "I don't have all day to sit around reading every 'post' you ever wrote about corn. I'm no purist! I'm just a guy or gal on the go and the pressures of my job are enormous. If I could read just one thing you 'blogged' about corn, what would it be?" First of all, let me say that is the trouble with this modern world! But okay. I suppose the third runner-up would be my discovery of the curious predominance of corn flakes in the index of Hal Needham's autobiography. And then of course no one can deny the excitement of reading about the corn they eat on Venus and Mars! What could possibly top that? No, not the erotic celebrity kernel-flinging of the glamorous Julie Christie. Sure, that is a good guess, but not everything is about action and thrills and eating corn in outer space with big Hollywood movie stars all the time! It may surprise you to learn that we have to "come back down to earth" - ha ha! - to enjoy the simple pleasures of the time Dr. "M." saw a squirrel eating corn on the cob. No sir, it just doesn't get any better than that. Now there's something to ponder while you sit in your skyscrapers worrying about your briefcases at your big business meetings: that adorable little squirrel just nibbling away without a care in the world! I wonder about the last time that cheeky little fellow had to put on a fancy "necktie" and meet someone in a conference room. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Oh my. Although the other day a particularly wiry and patchy squirrel came right up the front walk and onto the porch with disquieting urgency of purpose and leapt onto the screen door and glared at me malevolently with a large, black acorn jammed into its mouth and that wasn't adorable. It was ominous and terrifying. I looked into its eyes and the abyss stared back.

Most People Want Pictures of Robins

This "blogging" "web" site that "hosts" my "blog" has a humbling new feature called "Stats." Or maybe the "Stats" feature has always been here and I have never noticed. But now I have noticed. And here is what I have noticed. BY FAR the most people who visit this "blog" are looking for pictures of robins. WHAT? Some other favorite search terms that have led people here: "where can I find a ninja blender" and "huge acorn."

Goat vs. Octopus

On our first night in New Orleans we were ushered through the kitchen of a restaurant Goodfellas style, in what felt like a single tracking shot. We emerged in a secret room, where we consumed a goat. Do you think I am kidding? I am not! "Blog" Buddy Pia Z. Erhardt ate the goat with us. The next day I was invited to lunch with John Currence and Elvis Costello. Reader, I DECLINED! I can't believe it either. But yes, I am a professional, and my panel - my reason for being in New Orleans - was scheduled for lunchtime, so I hurried over to the panel place, all ready to get paneled. BUT IT TURNED OUT THAT THERE WERE TWO PANELS!!!!! AND MY PANEL DID NOT START UNTIL 3:30!!!!!!!!!! So I totally would have been able to have lunch with John Currence and Elvis Costello AND fulfill my duties to my gracious hosts, but by the time I figured it out, it was too late. O monstrous fate! But I really can't complain. The panel before mine was very interesting to hear. And anyway, we were in New Orleans, so the fun was just getting started. "Blog" Deputy Rhea came to my panel, so that was nice. It was great to see her in person! Afterward, Theresa and I went to Rio Mar and got to see Adolfo Garcia again. We were with John T. Edge, so Chef Garcia began bringing out all kinds of interesting and delicious things to surprise us, including what he called "the best ham in the world" and he knows what he is talking about. It comes from the "famous black pigs of Spain" who get to romp around wherever they want and feast on their favorite acorns, which they find for themselves. I am paraphrasing, and any errors are mine alone, certainly not Chef Garcia's. We ate octopus two nights in a row. On the first night it preceded the goat. That particular octopus was served as a carpaccio and adorned with these exquisite little slices of some sort of tiny, delicate oranges, I guess. That was at Domenica. Oh baby! Well, while we were talking to Adolfo Garcia, and eating every amazing thing he brought out, John Currence showed up with his sous chef (is that the right phrase? I'm an idiot!) Heath. So the five of us went from restaurant to restaurant, sharing many, many, many small plates of things, including some fried hog's head cheese from A Mano (another Garcia restaurant). I believe our marathon dinner stretched over four restaurants (more for some of us; see below), not counting the Carousel Bar, where no food was. In the French 75 bar at Arnaud's, we had a fried oyster I can only describe as fluffy. It was so good! Like something between an oyster and a cloud. And John Currence and John T. found a bartender there (in the French 75 bar at Arnaud's) to worship. An artist! (That's him in the picture. He's so good that I immediately found his picture on the "internet." I am ashamed to say I didn't learn his name, but that's because John T. and John Currence were hogging him to themselves, and I was away from the bar most of the time. Theresa and I sat on a comfortable loveseat watching a lovely older woman dressed in Phyllis Diller style smoke via cigarette holder.) The legendary musician Dr. John loves this bartender so much that he made a little statue of him. We saw it! Currence pronounced his concoctions "sophisticated." I had one of his Ramos gin fizzes, which was also like a cloud. I guess everything is like a cloud to me. He made John Currence something called an "aviator." It utilized creme de violette. I had a sip. It was like a cloud! Not really, but why stop now? It WAS remarkable, though. Oh yeah, the night before, we had a secret contraband liqueur made from Perique tobacco, of which there are only 25 acres left in the world, I think. But they'll grow more if this hooch gets off the ground. I have no idea what I'm talking about. What's Perique, for example? Is that a thing? And I forgot to tell you how we hung out in a mansion where Tennessee Williams wrote a play, next to the funeral home that made the arrangements for Jayne Mansfield. And I forgot to tell you how John T. and Theresa and I went to breakfast and had some ham hock and red pepper jelly on toast. And a bunch of other things made of pork. And did I mention that the goat and the octopus were placed in a cage where they battled to the death? Not really! But that was a little joke I told during my panel, inspired by a conversation with Rhea. Theresa and I stopped eating things at some point. John T. Edge and John Currence were last seen heading to a place called Cooter's for some fried meat pies.

Huge Acorn

Today I found a really huge acorn on the sidewalk and I was like, "Whoa." I was like, "What's up with that?" I was like, "Isn't the whole deal with acorns that they're supposed to be small?" Like, I'm supposed to think, "How could a mighty tree grow out of such a tiny thing?" Whereas in this case I could TOTALLY see how a tree could grow out of this huge beast of an acorn. Like, some squirrel would go out of its mind with happiness if it saw this acorn. Like, "I'm set for life!" the squirrel would say. Acorn, you are disrupting my cozy view of the world and I resent it.

Dear Bird Correspondent

Dear Bird Correspondent, I had a good close look at our resident bird today and am no longer convinced that it is a Carolina wren. First, it definitely DOES NOT have the distinctive white stripe over its eye. Second, our bird has alternating bands of dark and light feathers along its chest and belly - almost like stripes - that I have not seen in any pictures of Carolina wrens. Third, its tail, while somewhat resembling the tail of a Carolina wren, does not stick up. It is parallel to the ground. Fourth, the bird appears to be larger than an average Carolina wren. Fifth, our bird seems to be (on its back and head and wings) a more solid and rustier brown. The bird does share with the Carolina wren a long, pointed beak (with which, as I have just observed, it likes to crack open acorns and eat them) and a spherical body type. What do we have, Dear Bird Correspondent? A mutant Carolina wren?